Tag: Family

If you only knew how hard it was for me. If you only knew that this decision was made with hours of hours of thinking. I was 17 years when I became pregnant with you. I loved your father. He was so handsome. My heart broke when he left me. Being a single parent had many challenges and there were many. I didn’t know the first thing about mothering. Nothing. No nurturing. I didn’t know what that was. My parents did all they could to help with financial ends and the baby sitting as I worked. Food was put on our table. Sadly though I suffered from debilitating migraines and panic attacks. There would be days that I could not get out of bed and begged for my suffering to be over. You would be picked up and left to stay at mom and dad’s. It would be for a couple of days till I got over the pain in my head and those days turned into a week. The weeks turned into a month at the most.

It was talked about many times by my mother that they would take you to live with them. I didn’t want to. I didn’t. I had loved you so much. You were just learning to walk and find your character. You were so happy. My heart breaks. They came one morning, my step dad and my mom and took all your stuff, your crib, your clothes, your many toys. It was agreed upon that I would have no contact. That is crazy that is how it came to be. I suppose they were afraid I would change my mind and snatch you away. I knew you were in the best possible place but I thought I would be able to see you. It became nasty. This situation. The last I heard from them is the day I signed over a government check, a tax return and thus that was that. My baby was gone.

I was lost with out you. Lost. The love that I had was not near me. I was alone and on the streets. Truthfully I do not remember that time so well. I do know that I continued to work at the dry cleaners where I excelled. Party was my major thing to look forward to on the weekends. In spite of all what happened I managed to break free of my carefree ways. I was able to become stable and with monies to purchase my first home. This was the home I would provide for me and my second son and to help him grow. It was also a learning time for me. How to parent. It wasn’t easy but I really tried. My second son was to replace the love I had lost in you.

I know your life is not easy. My heart breaks once again. To have you phone me for money again and again and for me to say I could give you none but only wanted you to know how much I loved you. I need you to know this. I want only the good for you. You don’t need the money. Know that.

I am in the hospital and giving birth to you. I have made the decision to give you up for adoption. It is by far the hardest thing ever for me to do this but it is the right thing. I have nowhere to go. There is no support. None.

I lay on a stretcher in a quiet room and it is now after the pushing, the noise in the birthing room. I ache. I cry. I lay there and think, “What now?” Have the nurses forgotten me? After a time I am wheeled into a four bed room and the nurses pull the curtain around me for privacy. I cry some more. I hear the other three mothers talking quietly among themselves as they feed their babies. I am to stay here for a week to convalesce. I do what I want and I ask for my child. The nurses ask me if this is a good thing for me to do. I want to hold my daughter in my arms. To remember her sweetness. If I do not do this I know that not doing it will kill me. She is brought to me and still the curtain surrounds my bed with us two in there. A cocoon. I feel safe with her. When I leave I will have nowhere to go. But for now I am safe with her. I stare at her fingers. Her eyelids and I noticed a long blood vessel and I try to memorize what it looks like. This will be the identifying feature when I go searching for her. This is the plan. She is such a good babe. I rarely hear her cry. She is with me almost 24/7. The staff is concerned. The welfare worker is concerned. I tell them not to worry. I will give the baby up for adoption. I will not change my mind. They are concerned for my welfare though. I lie to them. All is well I say to them. All is well. The days pass and I know the countdown comes. I cry when she is not with me. I cry out loud one night that one of the mothers from the other bed comes to me and hugs me tight. I sob more now. A dam that has been broken. I ask her to leave. I will be okay. I am already grieving my girl. Danielle Lise.

The worker comes with the long document and carefully goes through it me to make sure I understand it. I understand more than she knows. I know that Danielle’s parents are in the building waiting. Hoping. Scared that I will change my mind. I am resolute. I will not. I do not. I sign the paper. I have written my baby a letter and it is attached to the document. This document I will not see again until Danielle turns 18. The childish writing of a skinny, scared girl not knowing where she will go in the world. I spend the last hour with my girl and my heart breaks. It breaks. Shatters. Then she is gone. It is fast. The signing of the paper and so soon they take her. She is no longer mine. But I know in my heart she has gone to her mom, the woman who will teach her to love, to know joy, to watch her grow. I cannot think about that anymore as I dress and walk out of the hospital into the day.

Some died of a life lived well and some didn’t. At the time I didn’t understand why you went away. My heart broke. I was not alone in this. Each one of you left broken hearts. Shattered. I now look back with fondness and so much love that you were in my life for some time. Each one of you had so much purpose for me. Grandparents who raised and loved me and did all they could. Friends who told great stories, made me laugh, fed me and my child, sometimes irked me (I will not lie Russell..hahaha!) some that told me there deepest secrets. There were a few that shared there lives and included me in their own family celebrations, and one that I got a tattoo from. Some that sat with me and gave me great advice and made me laugh and told me that life wasn’t so bad. Some that put there arm around my weary shoulder and told me to keep on keeping on. There were also my two dogs, Brownie & Blackie that I had when I was very small who I have never forgotten and my kitty. Cannot forget them. Never. They gave unconditional love.

I sit here this Sunday morning and muse about the events of yesterday morning spent in an old 1930’s bungalow near the city center of Edmonton. Visiting with the local artisan and her niece was such a delight and we spent a few hours talking naturally of interests that were dear to us, namely art and intuition. It was my second time meeting this sweet lady and revelled in her company and in this house. A house for over time that I drove by and always wondered what it looked like with it’s dilapidated back porch hanging on for dear life. It housed a photography studio and then a hairdresser shop but now this dear lady has her art studio with all her wonderful works there.

We sat in the old dining room with it’s built in cupboards, this after looking over the spacious rooms with her niece, her first time there. Hardwood floors, wood work around each doorway, built in cupboards in kitchen and dining room, roomy closets and that claw tub was to die for! I sound like a realtor pushing but it was a sight to behold. We talked each telling story after story about life experiences. Every once in a while I would have that similar feeling when I am do readings for clients. It’s a definite heaviness in my chest. It’s not uncomfortable but a definiteness there. I would then say to the ladies, “There is a man here wearing a 1940’s style of pants and rolled up shirt sleeves. Large forearms. He is standing in this room.” We would all agree and then continue on with our conversation. Every once in a while we would collectively get up to check out her art and then I would spy children on the stairway, a boy curiously looking at us.Sitting in my chair my sweater was pulled and I felt it on my skin as the artisan remarked that she had seen it move. Again, pretty groovy! I told my friend that I could hear laughter and running, they were so happy. This was a happy household. We all went back to the dining room to resume partaking of the hot coffee and cookies and talking excitedly to each other. It was like meeting up with old friends. As I was saying something we all heard a noise in the kitchen. The owner remarked that it was the top of a container now on the floor. A few minutes later a folded up chair behind the glass doors fell and in turn moved the door. We seen it happen before our eyes. There was no way for that chair to do that, no energy to push it. Continuing on again as if nothing happened. To me, it was pretty cool. Again the artisan wanted to show us something, this after a card on a easel was pushed over, another anomaly in this huge home. As I left the dining room I looked over to the fireplace and seen a brilliant bright light and knew without a doubt Spirit was here. Talking more as we moved from dining room to living room and back again I heard the sound of children running through the kitchen to the back porch which by the way no longer existed. The sound of a back porch screen door as it banged and the mother yelling to keep it shut. By the by the old back porch which had been previously been there was now replaced with a modern deck.

So this is how I spent my day yesterday in this old home that I finally did get to see with it’s past life intact in spirit of course. The artisan had asked me to walk through the house on the first visit which I did but being in an hurry was not to experience the going on’s at that time. I am sure a nice relaxed visit like the one we had where we were talking of mutual interests brought out the lively household where halcyon days were spent with much laughter and loud rambunctious children.

I was thinking of good old dad this morning and the following is a must share. Growing up with my dad in the army where he was gone for long periods of time and rarely able to stay long with us gave me a sense of loneliness and insecurity. Doing his duty for his country took a huge toll on my family life and my mother was granted a divorce when I was five. He ended his tour of duty not to long after, moved a five hour drive and as the dollar was tight for mom I was not to see him as much as I could. This was to be until he passed away in 1986.

A few weeks ago I was hosting a medium/psychic party in my home where I booked 8 of my friends who had 20 minutes each with the readers. And because I was hosting this I was given a free reading from Melissa and Brenda. When it was time to see Brenda who did the mediumship she turned to me and said, “Your father is with you and wishes to say how very sorry he is.” There were more affirmations that I would only know so I was a tad curious and let her go on without interrupting.

Now all the time I was growing up I never had any harsh thoughts against my father and so I was stymied at her statement but only until she added, “He is sorry for not being there for you.” And then the dam broke and I was all tears. In all this it occurred to me how my life would have been so much better for his guidance, for him being a dad to me, to show me that he loved me. I felt so separated from him physically but so emotionally. That truly affected me growing up and my self confidence was something that I was always seeking. I had successfully pushed down those feelings and didn’t know they existed until that defining moment of my reading.

This is what they call a healing message which I have heard stories from my mentor’s and so happy to have been on the receiving end of one. And so it is with this story that I imparted to you all and the very reason why I want to develop my abilities to also give healing messages, to help heal people. Ego has no place in this world of light and love where it is all about the reader. This is all about what spirit gives to the person being read and so it is all about them. To be further from the hurt we carry, a burden on our backs if you will and to lighten the load or to conquer it and to move on and be at peace.

May I say she was a slip of a child, well I will because she was. She was funny, she was everything to me, she was my confidente, the one person who I totally trusted with my little girl secrets, my fears. The family dynamics in my early life were not the Dick & Jane of long ago although I wonder what that would have been like. I lived in the country with my grandparents as my father was in the army and gone much of the time. My mother worked in the city and when dad came back home, they would meet up and then come pick me up. Those times were so precious as I was so excited to see them both. There were a few of us like this, my cousins and I who went to stay with other aunts and uncles when my grandmother passed away when I was three. Call me confused too because I thought she was my mom and my cousins my brother’s and sister’s. Funny!

Let’s get back to my cousin who I called a sister, Julia was her name and we were always together, thick and thin. Her mother Flora was to pass away in the middle 60’s leaving little Julia with no mother, no father but she had us, she had me. In all this my mother had divorced my father and remarried and we lived that life I was yearning for, the stability everyone needs to grow emotionally. My stepfather and mother decided to take in Julia to come live with us forever and I was so freaken excited that I cajoled them into picking her up and soon. My auntie had her and they were in a far off town, trying to make money to feed her family so we would have to wait until they came back. My mother received a phone call one night. Julia had passed away. She had contracted pneumonia after spending some time out in the cold.

You know that feeling when someone so close leaves you, when they pass away. It tears a part of your heart out. You try to make deals with God to bring them back, crying all the while, so desperate. And so the years went on and the feeling was always there and I would think of her time to time. I still do. Time passes and the hurt diminishes and now I think of the fun stuff we use to do. She always has my heart…always.

Gail, Julia and Mary in the background.

I have always had many people who I met that had gifts that would pass on to me that they would see a little girl with me, with short hair and a cowlick, much like Julia, wearing a long dress much to big for her. My theory about the dress was the one she wore in when she was buried, that can only be. So many to tell me that she is always there. I have to think that this why I have childlike qualities and this is due to her. To add to this my father who passed in 1986 is seen with me wearing a army uniform and my grandmother Julia wearing a long dress and her scarf around her head as well. All three travelling with me and me without a clue until my early 30’s. Boggles the mind now, doesn’t it. Believe that Spirit is always with you, giving you signs and they all have there own, you just have to ask.

Old creepy house built in the 30’s, partial dirt basement with an old stone furnace with many pipes, much like an octopus, going every which way to heat the upstairs. Drafts that came from a crawl space in the side of a wall which you could open by taking a 5×5 piece of wood that was attached and held by two wooden fasteners. It was dank and musty and cool when we deigned to play in there or to retrieve the Christmas decorations. One of those octopus arms came in through one wall of the bedroom and into the other wall where the crawl space was. The steps to the upstairs was creaky and narrow and you really had to watch your way or one could trip which as a child I often did.

The one bedroom down there had two double beds, one sitting along side that crawl space wall and the other facing it. As a 9 year old I have to say my imagination some nights went wild with fear. Did I hear something shuffling along the floor? What was that bang, so light? I felt as though eyes were watching me and my skin had eternal goosebumps. My dreams were nightmares some evenings and then others like heaven sent. My mother in her wisdom had a medicine pouch made for me to put around my neck as I slept. It smelled…like..crazy. I suppose she was tired of me running helter skelter up those crickity stairs in the middle of the night to get away from I don’t know what. By the morning it would be on the floor or under my pillow but never around my neck as she had placed it. She took it away from me considering it a lost cause. By the time I was 16 years old I was tired of this home and went to live with my half brother and his new family, thankfully.

Empathically I was picking up something but having no basis to what was going on in my tired mind, to having no one support me in my child like feelings. Many years now I may having a thought to what it could have been all along. Spirit, perhaps?